


#Scruff

by rohruh



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bottom Stiles, College Student Stiles, Established Relationship, M/M, PWP, Rimming, Scruff kink, Stiles gives the best blowjobs, biting kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-14 07:37:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2183427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rohruh/pseuds/rohruh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>From: Derek Hale</em><br/><em>To: Stiles Stilinski</em><br/>One more exam until you’re home and I can fuck you into the mattress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	#Scruff

Derek is the one that makes the rule: they won’t see each other more than once a month while Stiles is away at college. He wants him to live his own life—he wants him to get drunk off his face and make new friends and fail his first midterm and just get _out_ of the general clusterfuck that is Beacon Hills. Even if it is just for four short years. Derek’s four years at NYU were some of the happiest years of his life and he wants Stiles to have that.

He stops by the Stilinski house regularly to drop off kale salads and steamed broccoli with tofu. John invites him in every time and sometimes Derek says yes. He pretends that he doesn’t smell the chips hidden in the drawer third from the left or the ice cream hidden inside of the bag of frozen peas. They usually sit on the couch and watch a movie together with a couple of beers, and Derek just soaks in the familiarity that is _Stiles_. Stiles’ home. Whatever.

There’s enough going on to keep him busy. The pack comes up with even more stupid plans now that Stiles isn’t around, because apparently that’s even possible. Boyd and Erica both decide to join the police academy, and it’s like Derek’s dealing with Scott’s first lacrosse game all over again. Lydia and Jackson get back together and then break up and then get back together again—all long distance, but it still somehow becomes a pack-wide ordeal.  

They talk every day. Stiles’ roommate, Oliver, smells really bad and never goes to class. Stiles sends him Snapchats of him passed out in bed at 3pm covered in stale pizza. His classes are great, though, and he thrives in the university environment. He doesn’t fail his first midterm but he almost fails his third one (goddamn Calculus). They Skype all the time and have lots of phone sex. Stiles comes home for a weekend in October and Derek is supposed to visit him in November but a Wendigo waltzes into town and fucks shit up. By the time that’s all sorted out, it’s already almost December and Stiles will be home in a few weeks anyways.

His first set of exams are coming up, so he texts Derek at all hours, spanning various stages of sleep deprivation.

 

_From: Stiles Stilinski_

_To: Derek Hale_

**Roses are red, violets are blue, I hate exams, fuck my life.**

_From: Stiles Stilinski_

_To: Derek Hale_

**Why didn’t I start studying for these months ago?**

_From: Stiles Stilinski_

_To: Derek Hale_

**I hate myself.**

_From: Stiles Stilinski_

_To: Derek Hale_

**Sleep is for the weak >:]**

_From: Stiles Stilinski_

_To: Derek Hale_

**Sleep is for me. I need sleep. I miss sleep.**

_From: Stiles Stilinski_

_To: Derek Hale_

**I think I have an addiction to curly fries**

_From: Stiles Stilinski_

_To: Derek Hale_

**I ate too many curly fries.**

 

_From: Stiles Stilinski_

_To: Derek Hale_

**I hate myself.**

 

_From: Stiles Stilinski_

_To: Derek Hale_

**I’m on coffee number 5 do you think I will literally die to death if I drink a red bull right now?**

_From: Stiles Stilinski_

_To: Derek Hale_

**I want to bring whoever came up with the idea for exams back from the dead so I can punch them in the face.**

_From: Stiles Stilinski_

_To: Derek Hale_

**I am contemplating stealing a piece of pizza off of Oliver’s bed right now fuck my fucking life**

_From: Stiles Stilinski_

_To: Derek Hale_

**I HATE MYSELF**

It makes Derek nostalgic as fuck for his days at NYU.

Sometime after Stiles’ third exam, he drops off the grid. He responds to Derek’s texts but they haven’t Skyped in over two weeks, and Derek misses his stupid face. A lot. 

Stiles had sent him his exam schedule a month ago, and Derek had plugged the dates into the calendar on his laptop. His last one’s only five days away, on Friday, December 20th at 5pm. The last time they discussed it, Stiles was planning to drive home on Sunday the 22nd. Derek had cleared out his schedule well in advance—initially to welcome him home, but now, in his current state of Stiles-withdrawal, something more drastic is necessary.

“Don’t kill anything while I’m gone,” he tells Peter before packing up the Camaro on Friday afternoon and hitting the road.

 

_From: Derek Hale_

_To: Stiles Stilinski_

**One more exam until you’re home and I can fuck you into the mattress.**

_From: Stiles Stilinski_

_To: Derek Hale_

**JESUS FUCKING CHRIST**

_From: Stiles Stilinski_

_To: Derek Hale_

**If I wasn’t so exhausted I would have just come in my pants**

_From: Stiles Stilinski_

_To: Derek Hale_

**I miss your dick and your chest hair**

_From: Stiles Stilinski_

_To: Derek Hale_

**I’m going to fail this exam, ps.**

_From: Stiles Stilinski_

_To: Derek Hale_

**And the only person I can blame is myself because I SHOULD HAVE STARTED STUDYING FOR THIS A MONTH AGO. I hate myself.**

_From: Stiles Stilinski_

_To: Derek Hale_

**I love you <3**

_From: Derek Hale_

_To: Stiles Stilinski_

**Love you.**

It’s his first time on campus, so he gets there early so he has plenty of time to get lost. He finds the building pretty easily, though, thanks to the giant campus map, so he uses his extra time to pick up burritos from the place across the street that Stiles always raves about.

He tries not to look creepy while he’s waiting outside of the lecture hall, burrito in hand. Students trickle out one by one, some looking dejected, others ecstatic. Stiles is one of the last to leave. He doesn’t even notice Derek at first, he just shuffles out of the door like a pathetic zombie.

Derek can see the exact moment that Stiles’ brain registers him; he comes to a halt and his head slowly turns, exorcist-style, so he can gape in Derek’s general direction.

Derek is momentarily floored because _holy FUCK is that stubble?_

“Is this real life?” Stiles asks him.

Derek hands him the burrito.

***

One ten hour ‘nap’ later, Stiles is almost conscious.

“What are your thoughts on Dim Sum?” he asks Derek.

“I could eat.” 

“Okay, cool.” He pulls out his laptop and clicks on one of his bookmarked pages. “Choose what looks good to you and order while I’m in the shower. You must get a minimum of ten sesame balls. And a lot of dumplings. That's a direct order.” 

Derek grabs his face and pulls him in for a deep kiss. 

“Thank God Oliver’s exams finished a few days before mine,” Stiles grins. “After food there will be so, so much sex.” 

Derek runs his thumb down his cheek. “Don’t shave while you’re in the shower.” 

“You like my exam scruff?” Stiles waggles his eyebrows.

Derek mouths along his cheek in response. 

He goes a little overboard with dinner because everything looks fucking delicious. They end up curled up on Stiles’ bed with a Dim Sum feast spread out in front of them, not even bothering with plates. 

Stiles stuffs his face gracelessly until his cheeks are ballooned and food is spilling down his chin. It’s barbaric. There’s a chunk of sesame ball trapped on the hem of his tshirt and a piece of chicken sticking to his cheek. It’s Stiles’ _stubble covered_ cheek, though, so somehow it’s kind of even a little bit hot. 

Ten minutes later, the take out boxes are piled clumsily on the desk and Stiles is on his knees between Derek’s legs choking on his cock. “Fucking missed this,” he mumbles, pulling off to suck one of Derek’s balls into his mouth. “Fucking missed you.”

“Missed you too,” Derek groans and _fuck,_ it feels so good to just be with him and breathe in his scent. 

Stiles lets go of Derek’s dick all together and shimmies his way up his body so they can make out a little, and all that Derek can concentrate on is the scrape of Stiles’ stubble against his own. It makes his cock twitch between them. Stiles sighs into it and starts rubbing his own erection against Derek’s, setting a lazy rhythm between them. Derek is fully naked but Stiles is still in his boxer briefs, and it’s driving Derek wild. 

“Enough is enough,” Stiles whines. “Fucking _fuck_ me already—my goddamn wrist has been aching for the past month because I can’t stop fucking myself with that vibrator you bought me and it’s not enough. Your dick plus my ass is a thing that needs to happen like five minutes ago.” 

They swap positions so that Stiles is face down on the bed, head buried in his pillow and ass in the air. He already prepped himself in the shower, so Derek just loosens him up quickly before sliding in and pounding the shit out of him. Slow and romantic fucks are nice and all, but right now they both just need to get off. 

Stiles is _loud_ in bed, always has been. He cries into his pillow with each thrust and it sets Derek off even more, until he’s fucking into him so hard that the bed is banging against the wall. 

Derek can smell it in the air when Stiles is getting close. He always gets sweaty along his bottom lip and his cock starts streaming precum, and his breathing becomes even more irregular, like his orgasm is preventing him from remembering how to breathe. Derek goes at it with all he’s got, grinding into him and lowering his body down flush overtop of Stiles’.

He licks along the back of his neck teasingly and then fastens his teeth and bites down with just the right amount of pressure. Stiles comes immediately. 

They collapse beside each other and it takes Stiles five minutes post-orgasm to regain enough cognitive function to realize that Derek hasn’t come yet. “What’s up? Do you want me to suck you off? Want to come on my face?” 

It’s a resounding _yes_ to both of those options but right now, that’s not exactly what Derek wants. He wants the scratch of that stubble against him. It’s stupid, but he can’t get it out of his mind. 

He lets Stiles climb on top off him and straddle his legs, taking Derek’s cock into his mouth and bobbing lazily. His fingers graze over his balls and Derek arches into it, wanting more. Stiles gets the hint, pulling off of his cock and mouthing lower, teasing licks along his balls. Derek thrusts up again, directing Stiles even _lower_ and—there is it. He sees the moment of realization dawn on his Stiles’ face. 

“Oh,” he grins, “you want me to rim you? Why didn’t you say so sooner?” 

Stiles crawls down so he can lift Derek’s thighs over his shoulders. He goes to town, eating Derek’s ass with enthusiasm, fucking his tongue in and out sloppily. His stubble scrapes against Derek’s rim and _fuck,_ this is exactly what he needs. What he’s been thinking off ever since he first laid eyes on Stiles in the lecture hall. 

It doesn’t take him long before he’s coming all over himself with a hiss. Stiles presses a kiss to his ass and then shuffles back, collapsing onto one of his thighs like it’s a pillow. 

“So you like the stubble, then?” He asks after a few moments of silence.

“It’s—you should keep it for a while. Yeah.”

“Okay,” Stiles smiles, his eyes already drifting shut. “I can do that.”

**Author's Note:**

> [My tumblr.](http://rohruh.tumblr.com)


End file.
